


To say I never cared would be a lie (but I'm a good liar)

by Hopeful_Foolx



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, James Spencer | Lancelot Lives, James is straight up not having a good time, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Near Death Experiences, Restraints, Waking up Restrained, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_Foolx/pseuds/Hopeful_Foolx
Summary: Wumptober 2020, three prompts, three chapters, one story.1. Waking up restrained. Percival does not have a great time.2. Don't say goodbye.3. Take me instead.
Relationships: James | Lancelot/Percival (Kingsman)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945483
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. day one - hanging

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is kind of my first fandom, I wanted to write at least a little here. I won't spoiler the prompts though. Please enjoy and tell me what you think :)

His wrists hurt. It’s the first thing coming to his mind before he himself arrives, his wrists hurt. His fingers are cold. So cold, so incredibly cold and somehow numb, he can barely even feel them except for the cold, if it wasn’t for his wrists and there is another sensation, slowly creeping in. Something dried against his arm. His sleeve sticks to his skin and it itches. Itches so badly. There is nothing but sensations at first. He can’t really breathe, it’s barely enough but his head is squeezed between his arms and his wrists hurt, something cut into them. He doesn’t open his eyes. What is happening? He doesn’t move, but when he assesses his body, he finds out he could not if he tried. He also finds out that his feet are barely touching the floor. He is on his tiptoes but not by coice.   
And that’s the moment he blinks and opens his eyes, the moment all the sensations come back. He can’t move, he is on his tiptoes, his hands tied above him and-

“Oh, hello there. Nice to see you awake, finally” A voice chimes in and it’s muffled until he moves his head and frees his ears. When the pressure vanishes, pain erupts in his shoulderblades. The person doesn’t swim into focus. He doesn’t have his glasses, and his head is… Someone knocked him out, he figures. Hanging like this doesn’t help, but it does something else. Pain turns into anger, fear joins in and he’ll take what energy he can get. His wrists hurt, whatever is holding him cuts into them, just at the point under his thumbs, his palms. They are too tight, but that does not matter, does it? He does not try to move. No point there. He also doesn’t answer the woman, tries to remember her name but only comes up with something starting with a K. 

“And here I thought Gentlemen were supposed to have manners, tz!” She gets up and pushes her chair back in the process. He can’t completely make out her features, but she looks strangely familiar.   
“But at least you are not wasting our time. We didn’t get the other one to shut up, he just  _ keeps talking _ ” James. James is not with him. She talks about James, right? She has to talk about him. What is he doing here? Why can’t he remember the mission?

“But, well. Maybe you are taking the situation a little more serious then” She smiles and comes closer, close enough he can finally properly see her. Despite her strict clothes and the heels he hears on the floor, her face is soft. She smiles, even, and looks so young. Only a little older than Roxy. Same color of hair, even. Even her eyes are so soft, who is she? K? 

“So. What did you want here? Blow the building up? You can just… nod” She smiles and if he didn’t know better, it’s adorable. He does know better. He doesn’t even know if she really looks that way, he remembers. Hallucinogens. That’s why they’re here. A dangerous drug, he read the file so carefully but that is all he remembers. His head swims. She looks so much like Roxy how- 

He looks at her and says nothing, thinking about Roxy makes him think about James too. Does James just not shut up in general? Or did they drug him? Did he tell them - no, then they wouldn’t bother with Percival. 

“Shame” she sighs, “Shame. Now I have to get the others involved, while…” she smiles and the noise her hands make while clapping is loud enough to make him flinch, “While I actually enjoy that! I’m Kate, but you know that. And you’re Percival, though I really think that is a strange name” he can’t help but frown, “Oh darling, don’t write your name inside your glasses if you don’t want me to know! Speaking of which…” she pulls them from her pocket and carefully puts them over his nose and ears, “I want you to see this. But I severed the connection to your friends, or maybe they did that themselves? I don’t know. But you are alone, I know  _ that _ at least. You and your friend, all alone” She pats his cheek and shakes her head, “really hoped you would talk. Now my boyfriend gets all the fun in torture and I can’t touch you, really. And I looked forward to it! I just really really looked forward to it…” He doesn’t move when she inspects his face with her fine and warm fingers, just looks at her trying to put all the hate, all the anger and all his resistance in the stare. Where is James? What have they done to him? Why does she look so much like Roxy? She pets his cheek again and turns around abruptly. 

“Dear? Want to bring your new  _ best friend _ in here? Sadly, Percival doesn’t want to talk!” Someone laughs and a man tells her that they are on their way. Percy tries to think, but whatever he tries, it’s just a loop, he gets stuck at James and that’s terrifying. He gets stuck at ‘need to get to James’, something must be so, so wrong. They’ve been in similar situations before, and he can always keep a level head. He can always work with what he has, but now? He can’t. His thoughts keep wandering away, he can’t- 

Oh.   
Oh, so that’s it. He can’t concentrate. He can’t focus. Even with his glasses on, he forgot that he got his glasses back. He can’t focus, that’s his problem. 

“Oh, pardon me, I forgot!” Kate flips around to face him again, smiling brightly and pushes a button on a device he did not see before. A click, a metallic cracking, and he is falling, his feet touch the floor but only for a moment when he is unable to support himself his knees buckle and he stays up for a short moment before they give in completely and he falls to the cold, hard and wet floor. He doesn’t so much feel it as hear it, lands hard on his shoulder. His hands immediately start to feel like filled with insects, his head swims, his wrists hurt. They never stopped hurting. He hears someone pant and realizes it’s him, tries to hold onto that but slips away again. He still has his glasses. Kate looks like Roxy. He is tired. His wrists bleed. Didn’t he just - oh, no, he fell. Right. 

The thick metal door opens and someone in a yellow suit gets pushed inside, lands on his knees next to him. James. He grins, but there is blood on his teeth and Percy can’t focus. 

“Thank you  _ so much _ , Simon!” James exclaims too loudly, “I really needed that shove for my knees, you see, got shot in one once and-” he gets a fist in the stomach that knocks the air out of him enough to send him down too. He looks over to Percy, his eyes clear and bright and panicking. Why- 

Oh, he knows why. Because Percy can barely keep his eyes open.    
“Percival, fancy running into you here!” 

“I’ll leave you two here for some time, hm?” Kate laughs, and the door falls shut. Are they gone? No, even if, that doesn’t help.    
“Percival?” He looks at James and doesn’t answer, “Percival, talk to me” Why does just everyone want him to talk?! He closes his eyes to muster up the strength to properly answer, but then they are closed and he doesn’t really want to open them again. 

“Percy, come on” 

No, he most definitely does not, he decides. 


	2. Don't say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - don't say goodbye. The second snippet of a desaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, Percy's name is Quinn here. Quinn Percival Lightman, to be exact. It was the first name I ever imagined him having for some reason.

“What is happening?!” Percy fires another shot and falls back against the wall, “Percy!” The pressure turns to fire turns to ice, to the unique form of pain that is a gunshot wound. He tries to stay on his feet but can’t, and his hand is slick and red when he pulls it back. James. It’s James on the comms, and he doesn’t want to answer.

“It appears like… I may have been shot” he mumbles and looks at his hand. James coughs, a barely contained gasp. 

“Fuck” Percy internally agrees. It’s the shortest version to describe his situation, since he is, indeed, fucked. 

“How bad? I’ll come get you”    
See, there is a problem. It’s not one yet, just a minor inconvenience, actually. With being shot it turns to a major one, actually. With setting off the contamination alarm in the lab, nobody except them knows there hasn’t been any actual breach. None of the guards know that the air is fine. Not even the system knows.   
  
“You can’t” He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to admit it. 

“What do you mean? I’m literally on the way, how bad is it?” He looks down, doesn’t answer, “Percival?!” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. 

  
“Bad. But you won’t be able to open the door, I locked it” The steps stop abruptly, James starts a sentence and then stops, then he runs, “It won’t open” 

“Tell me you didn’t do that” Percy groans when he looks over to the heavy metal cutting off the hallway, and is spared from answering when a signal does that for him. James is in the system, checking it over and muttering to himself, and he knows how he looks doing so, he knows what he’ll find. That the door is locked. Nobody can get in. Blowing up the door won’t even help, and none of them could hack into the system, maybe not even Merlin could, and they haven’t had contact in so long. Arthur won’t send them backup. For all Kingsman knows, they are probably dead. He hears James scream and curse and hit the door, and then a thump when he sits down. His eyes sting when he hears it, his vision swims again, and it’s not the pain from the bullet wound, the concussion, the aftermath of getting drugged, it’s how James is in pain. “Stupid, self-sacrificing  _ moron _ ” He can’t help but chuckle at that. Yeah. He is. But James still loves him and when he has some quiet later, he’ll think about it and come to the same conclusion. Eventually.   
“I won’t be angry with you right now” He finally says with forced evenness. 

“Thank you. I know you don’t under…” The pain in his side flares up and he barely keeps himself from whimpering in pain, it’s spreading and with a sudden hotness the realization comes, that the bullet is still inside of him. Lodged somewhere it should not be.

“Stay with me, Percy.” There is no noise apart from James’ voice. It’s soft and gentle, he keeps himself calm because… Maybe because Percy needs to stay calm too. Percy knows there are others with him in here, at least three of them. He has three bullets left. James is in no state to act. Still he is there. Outside the door. What hurts him is that he hoped he would help that way - so James would not die. He hopes he doesn’t, by whatever miracle, and Percy is sure enough he has all of them who did not evacuate here with him. He shut the door. Nobody can open it. He would need to hit the button that is too far away now, and the guards won’t use it. Not with the rest of the building contaminated. He doesn’t hear the alarms anymore, and he won’t tell them it’s a bluff. He just wishes… no. James is safe. And Percy in here, so it’s all right.    
“Percy” James’ voice breaks. 

“You know the story of Percival?” Percy swallows and smiles, “His quest for the grail? He lost his opportunity, you know. He was a child with fool’s luck, and then over and over and…” he feels around the floor for his weapon and adjusts himself so he is better supported against the wall. Blood is steadily oozing from the wound in his side. But he won’t die with a bullet left, he will not go down like this, “and over again. But he never appreciated it, you know” 

“Stop talking” James’ voice sounds dangerously thick, “normally not a word and now you’re delusional. Just stop” Percy can’t help but laugh, “just shut  _ up”  _ It’s the last thing he wants, he just says it because he and Percy both know he doesn’t mean it. 

  
“Nonono, it’s important” Percy looks around the corner he is backed into, “you need to know that” He sighs when he sees someone approaching out the corner of his eye and shoots, half blind, but good enough, “you are my grail, James. You are what I lost and what I found again, and I was a fool just like Percival was. He did not ask the question, he did not ask what he should have asked” Two bullets left, “I made the same mistake. He got a chance to save to sick king and he did not because he thought it was better to say nothing at all. To keep the facade of how he was raised oh so well on the court of Arthur. He didn’t ask the question and then he paid for it, I always… I always wanted to be better, but screwed up the same” 

“What question, Percy” It’s just a whisper. Because he knows. How could he not?

“The only one that matters, the most important one” he sniffs and shoots again, “The only one that matters, he didn’t ask his, I didn’t ask mine” Despite the cold he feels warm.

“Then tell me” He closes his eyes. One bullet. No footsteps anymore. Is he alone now? With James? Finally? “Ask me, goddamnit” 

“There is a letter in my desk at headquarters. Green paper” He starts, and James breathes heavily, loudly into his comms, a  _ no  _ without voice, “You know the question already”

“Shut  _ up _ and open that door  _ right now _ , or I swear to god I will-” Percy laughs and hisses at the pain. Is it getting less painful? Or is that just the bloodloss? Everything is a little too funny, actually. Almost like he is tipsy, just on the verge of lightly drunk, not sober and not concerned with logic. Bloodloss it is then. 

“I can’t. Nobody can” He closes his eyes. So he will die with one bullet left then, “But I needed you to know that I did not intend to make that same mistake” He swallows, but not only in pain, but for the tears running down his face, “Like he did. I still did. And I am sorry, James, I am so sorry” Something slams against the door loud enough he can hear it from his corner and he lets his head roll to the side. Oh James. 

“You’re saying goodbye. Don’t say goodbye” He smiles when he realizes that that’s exactly what he is doing. He says goodbye. “Percy, talk to me” He smiles. If he dies hearing only James’ voice? Beautiful, “Percy, come on. Say something” He sighs and blinks, then there are more footsteps and he missed the last guard as it seems, he’s hurt but not dead. He shoots again and he falls again, but now his gun is empty. Which is good. Then, James screams.

“Quinn!” Oh, oh no. James almost never uses his name. While James doesn’t like Lancelot too much, Percy doesn’t really like his own name. James does. He respects him, however. Now he screams his name and Percy wants to hold him, tell him that it’ll be okay, but he also won’t lie. He won’t ever lie to James. 

“Hmmm?” He can’t bring himself to say more, and sighs. It take so much out of him to say it, but he needs to do it, “I love you” He is cold now. Either it’s the blood or his skin is clammy, and it takes three tries to shake the gun loose from his numb fingers. He doesn’t need it anymore, and he doesn’t want to hold it anymore.

“I know, I know that, god I know that” A pause and only breathing, heavy and panicked, it’s good to hear James breathe because it means that he is alive, “I love you, please, please don’t leave me. Talk to me” He doesn’t know about what. He tries to think of something but… He doesn’t know.

“Percy, talk to me. Don’t just… Percy!” The desperation in his voice, and still he seems to be there enough that he calls him Percy, not Quinn

“I will never forgive you, if you die now. Get up and open that fucking door” He’s sobbing now, but it’s too late. He can’t get up, he can’t even feel his fingers anymore. His wrists are not bleeding anymore, are they? Does he even have enough blood left? 

“You can’t just ask a question and leave me like this. Don’t you want to know the answer?” the last word is already fading, “I know you do, I won’t give it to you when you die now” his voice gets quieter, sounds further away. 

“Can’t. I love you” he says it again because he is too tired to think. 

  
“Don’t you dare to say goodbye. Don’t you dare, Percival!” He knows what he is attempting to do, he wants to make him angry so he finds enough strength to get up and open the door, but that won’t happen. Goodbye is a good word. He wants to say it but James doesn’t like it, so he stays quiet. It’s comfortably dark now, and cold.   
“Quinn, please” is the last thing he hears before his weak grip to reality falls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'll leave you with that.


	3. For the greater good

James refused any pain medication. He should take it and it would be normal and it wouldn’t make him more than sleepy, but James refused and he will not back out now. The slash along his arm is long, blood loss made him dizzy a long time ago, makes it harder for him to look at the door. His vision nearly blacked out when he dragged himself into the infirmary, following Harry who held him upright. The medical team had taken Percy right the moment they arrived here. Already waiting. Harry had working comms, and none of them had. James doesn’t want to think about how he held Percy, no matter the loss of blood, no matter anything - he just held him as soon as they found him he just held him until they landed here and he was taken away. Held him when he was so cold. 

_ “Take me instead” James sees Quinn licking blood from his lips, “He won’t talk, and if you want to dance, I had the right upbringing” His smile is so sure, almost manic, “Except for… Are you afraid? Because you sure look like it” James sees the glint in his eyes and wants to beg him to stop talking, to shut up, but he can’t. He is on the floor, the drugs still leaving his system and he can’t move. Bruises bloom where the man kicked him Percival just sits there, legs crossed, hands - though shackled - folded. He is wet and still he looks so smug, so damn sure of himself. He never talks this much, and they can’t be stupid enough to fall for the trick. They just can’t. James tries to intervene but the slightest movement sends the world tilting and he is back on the wet tiles. The woman laughs and it echoes in his head, she laughs and laughs and... _

Someone enters through the swinging door and he cranes his neck to see.

“Hold still” Merlin gently chides him and he tries to, he really tries, but he can’t really. The needle stabs through his skin and he hisses and stops himself, presses his lips together and not for one moment he looks away from the door. He refused medical personnel because Percy needed them. He refused painkillers because  _ he _ needs to stay awake and alert. He can’t relax now. 

“He won’t get out of surgery for some time, you know” Merlin sets the needle down and begins gently patting antiseptic on the wound. It stings and he welcomes the cold pain. 

“And you, too, need a real doctor” 

“I’m fine” he mumbles, face still turned to the door. 

“I just stitched half of you back together, forgive me if I am not convinced” He chides but that is all he does. He still cares for his wounds, he still gently wipes something onto the cut, wraps his arm in gauze and tapes it into place. James just nods and flexes his hand. It’s numb. Cold. 

“Thank you” he finally adds and hears Merlin sigh, it’s almost enough to look away from the door. 

_ James couldn’t even do more than whimper when the fist went down on his face, then a third time, a fourth. He tried to keep silent, but he is not in control of his body. He is prone on the floor, and Percival sits by the door and looks at him and James wants to concentrate on the look he gives him, on the rage and fury in it when another kick lands in his stomach.  _

“Sit up” Merlin just commands and James does, wincing in the process. He is black and blue, and if his wrist wasn’t broken he would support himself more in sitting upright. Instead, he leans on one arm and looks himself over for a moment, just to look away. He should be grateful they only kicked and hit, since Percy later found the laboratory and the experimental drugs there. Only a few of them lethal, but nerve gas and far more brutal chemical mixtures. It’s how they knocked both agents out when they first entered, and James doesn’t want to remember how they later used it against them. They won’t do anything anymore, since Harry and him sealed the lab after setting it on fire. Harry. He nearly shot him when he entered, thought him to be a hallucination at first, too good to be true. 

_ “Where is Percival?”  _

Harry fixed him up well enough for the flight, but not for getting around. Theoretically he knows he needs to rest. He is bone-tired, but the remains of Adrenaline keep him up and alert. He can’t forget it. He can’t forget Percy saying goodbye, he can’t forget hearing his voice give out and how he sounded more sluggish with every word. How every time it took longer for him to answer. How he told him the story of Percival only to tell him that he made the same mistake.    
He lets Merlin inspect his back and squeezes his eyes closed when he pulls the makeshift bandage away. He winces in sympathy but James just forces his eyes to open to look at the door. He can’t rest until he knows that Percy is alright. That he is alive, that he is okay, that he’ll live. To kiss the ever living sense out of him and kick his ass simultaneously. 

“How is he doing?” James looks away for a second to see Harry, freshly showered and not a scratch on him. Which is good because Merlin would… No. He won’t think about it. 

_ “Lancelot, look at me!” James swallowed and tried to meet Percvial’s gaze.  _

_ “I’m okay” He lied and took the offered hand, then the gun. He didn’t know how he got out, a question for later, only shook the  _ _   
_ _   
_ “He broke his wrist and didn’t tell me until I saw it, I think by now I stitched him together like he’s Frankenstein’s monster, and he is still refusing painkillers because he could maybe need a millisecond longer to blink and miss how someone exits the room” Despite the words, his tone is soft. 

“So, badly”    
  
“I’m still here, you know?” He mumbles and lifts his hand to rub at his face, “But that about sums it up” A pause, “It should have been me in that lab” he finally says, he’s been thinking it the whole time while desperately trying to find a way to get to Percival, “It should have been me but I was still too drugged, too out of it, and Quinn went inside alone because of it” He closes his eyes because if he is thinking it, everyone probably is and he doesn’t want to see their disappointed faces, ”It should have been me, and if not, we should have been together at least. And we were not. If he dies now, it’s-” 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence” His eyes snap open and Merlin is suddenly in front of him, “The mission blew because our intel was wrong. It’s a miracle that you both made it out alive, and whatever Quinn did there, it was the right decision. I’d rather have both of you back here than only one or none at all” He puts a hand on his neck so James looks at him, glaring through thick glasses, “Don’t blame yourself for a decision he made. I know it’s easier that way, but don’t” It’s a long speech and Merlin seems to realize it the same moment James does, because he looks as surprised as he feels and lets go.    
“Now enough of that. Harry, can you get him some clothes?” James only hears the steps retreat. 

“I’m sorry”    
  
“Don’t be. You could have lost him, and I did expect you to blame yourself. If I had him sitting here, he’d be the same”    
  
“He wouldn’t have refused a real  _ medical  _ doctor” James adds. Chuckling while talking hurts but the thought is good. Because he absolutely would sit here all the same, talking to Merlin, not to any of the doctors. It’s not just about trust but about the familiar face and hands. Just that he would not utter a word the whole time. 

“He totally would. You two are too similar” Are they? He thinks about the proposal again. Until now, he ignored every part of it. Tells himself Quinn had been delirious, he had been shot and in pain, but that’s only then. The green envelope didn’t just appear like that. He doesn’t do anything unplanned. He doesn’t do anything without a precise step-by-step plan. 

“He…” He swallows and licks his split lip, “He proposed to me. In a way. After they took him, and we got seperated, when he got shot. Because they wanted me and he provoked them until they took him instead. So I had a chance to recover enough to run later. I knew that was his plan yet I just wanted to scream at him for it, and then he was in that lab and all the doors were locked…” He presses his lips together and his jaw hurts, there is another bruise blooming on the left side from where he met the tiles too hard. 

“Finally” Merlin only sighs, “He carries that ring around for years now” Years? “I remember when he got it. Glad he finally asked” 

“All of you knew then?” He isn’t surprised, not really, he just didn’t think about it at all until now. It’s the first moment to calmly do so.    
  
“Of course” Harry chimes in just as Merlin tapes gauze over the last cut, “Or, Merlin, Tris and I” He worlessly helps him to put on a black shirt and jacket, “It’s not just quite his style to be this dramatic. Seems like he got some from you, Lancelot” James tries to smile and just looks down again. 

_ “Come on Darling, didn’t you want to test out sample 342?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yes, I did. You think he’s the right choice?”  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Oh, I don’t know, but he certainly seems to think so”  _ _   
_ __ James could only watch as they dragged Percival away. 

It’s much later that he holds the green envelope so much fuss was made about in his hands. It was glued to the top of a box, not small enough for a ring but still containing one - while he didn’t open the letter, he peeked inside the box to find one of his old ties, green and spilled tea on it, next to a ring box. Along with a bunch of postcards. He knows he sent them to Quinn, but didn’t recognize all of them, he did, however, recognize the neat handwriting on them. Still he closes it again and sets it aside, next to a paper cup with a straw on a bedside table. It’s in front of a heart monitor and next to a bed with a sleeping man in it, black hair soft and washed and curly, with wrapped wrists and a stitched up bullet wound. He hasn’t awoken yet, but for once in his life, James is patient. He sets the envelope aside and sits down and waits. If Quinn waited so long to ask a question so dear to him, James can wait a few hours to answer it. 


End file.
